I don't own Captain Planet... to my knowledge, anyway.
T Rating applies to this chapter: mild sexual references, mild drug references, adult themes.
I've got your attention now, hey! (devious chuckling in background)
Alternate Destination
Chapter Thirteen
The ominous atmosphere of 60th street barely registered as Linka briskly wandered the sidewalk, her mind devoid of thought or reasoning. She was utterly numb; as if her brain had shut down but her body was instinctively acting on auto-pilot. She didn't know where she was going (or where she was, for that matter), but this mattered little to the distraught brunette, who seemed to have the weight of the world on her frail shoulders.
She had been walking for about an hour, obviously with no destination in mind. It seemed as if she had trodden the entire length of Manhattan by now, clad in her pretty dress and knee-hight boots which were currently contributing to some spectacular muscle cramps.
A few passing pedestrians registered the hunched posture, the pale, tear-stained face and muffled sobs, but typically, none had offered their help or assistance. They ambled past with nothing but a curious glance, caught up in their own plans and conversations. If Linka had been more susceptible to her surroundings, their uncaring behavior would have cemented her belief that the human race was crumbling around her.
Instead, Linka walked on, a hazy cloud of grief shielding her already frayed nerves from the bitterness of human nature.
She reached an intersection and stopped for a moment as her eyes scanned the dimly-lit streets. An illuminated sign caught her attention, pointing in the direction of Central Park. Linka's boots clicked loudly on the concrete pathway as she resumed her journey, slightly out of breath now as her pace quickened.
The wrought-iron gates to the east entrance of the park beckoned enticingly to her left. They promised anonymity, a place where she could be blissfully alone. She chose to ignore the alarm bells resonating within her head as a part of her awoke and acknowledged the dangers which apparently lurked within the park at night.
Her head bowed low, Linka entered the enclosure. She trudged along the gravel path and nudged a discarded Coke can with her foot for several lengths, until a badly-aimed kick sent the red aluminum soaring into a nearby creek.
Her mouth formed a round ring of frustration as she paused and glared at the can, bobbing innocently downstream.
I probably should have recycled that, she thought bitterly, watching as the object floated deeper into the park and out of her sight.
Eco-Emergency! Where is Captain Planet when you need him? A chorus of slightly unbalanced giggles escaped her throat, which she promptly stifled with her hand, horrified beyond belief that she could be making a joke after the events of the previous few hours.
Linka turned and hurried away, on the verge of tears again. A rarely-used Russian expletive was muttered under her breath as she strode blindly in the direction of the sign-posted 'Strawberry Fields' garden. It was somehow familiar to her, even though she had never set foot in Central Park before.Her foggy mind struggled to recall a conversation she had once witnessed between Gi and Wheeler in the Geo Cruiser.
"...yeah, we used to throw water bombs from behind the boulders at random people!"
"Wheeler, that's awful! You were such a brat in your younger days!"
"Hey, what else where we supposed to do?"
Gi gave him an indignant look. "Oh, I don't know... ride a bike? Play football? Like most other kids."
"I only ever had one bike and it was stolen, along with Dad's lawn-mower and tools. He wasn't too happy about it either," Wheeler lamented, as if the memory wasn't particularly pleasant.
Gi sighed, shaking her head in amusement. "So you'd go to this Strawberry Fields place instead on weekends and harass innocent bystanders?"
"Yep!"
"What is this Strawberry Fields? Can you pick the fruit?" Linka interjected, intrigued that such a place existed in the middle of New York City.
"Yeah, babe," he exclaimed, turning around in his seat in front and grinning down at her delighted expression. "They're massive! Bright red, and you can pick as many as... OW!" he exclaimed, slumping back into his seat quickly. He glared at Gi while rubbing his backside in pain. "Begone, you bawdy wench..." he muttered in Gi's direction.
"Someone has to keep you in line, Wheeler," Gi replied tartly, aware of the thoroughly confused look on Linka's impressionable face.
Gi's attention was soon focused elsewhere, leaving Linka to look up in surprise once again as the top of Wheeler's head peeked over the seat, his bright blue eyes gazing intently at the object of his affection. He openly appraised her face for a few moments, totally distracted from whatever he had been planning to say. Linka raised her eyebrows, but returned the gaze in an almost defiant manner.
"Da?"
He considered her for a moment, a thoughtful expression replacing his previously playful mood.
"I'll have to take you there one day, baboushka," he replied softly. "I think you'd like it."
The moonlight cast gloomy shadows over the ground as Linka reflected upon the memory. If anything, it increased her anxiety as the Russian mourned the loss of those carefree, innocent days.
Her pace quickened as thepath eventually opened up into a clearing. Beyond the trees lay a beautiful garden, surrounded by numerous water-features, brightly colored foliage and a large, round plaque upon which offerings had been scattered. The letters of the word 'IMAGINE' were visible even from Linka's vantage point, some distance from the memorial.
Strawberry Fields?
Linka approached the memorial, her burden forgotten for the moment as she simply appreciated the beauty and tranquility of the surroundings. Taking a seat on a nearby stone bench, she crossed her legs and breathed in the scent of cedar. The woody fragrance calmed her nerves somewhat as she contemplated her next move.
A rustling noise to her right caused her to jump slightly. Alerted to the possibility of company, she swung her legs over the bench and dropped to the ground.
Linka's fear was short-lived however, as an elderly man with a gray beard and hair stumbled out from the shrubbery. He ambled past her hiding spot, taking a swig from his bottle of Jim Beam and muttering indiscriminately under his breath.
She remained in her hiding spot, watching the man stagger in the direction she had just came from. Linka soon lost sight of the homeless man and propped herself back onto the bench, shivering slightly. The air had turned cooler and she had left her jacket at the restaurant.
The Planeteer briefly considered the idea of returning to the hotel, collecting her things and leaving. She had nowhere to go, but the humiliating rejection she had encountered was too painful bare any longer.
Maybe Wheeler was right to stay away, she contemplated. Can't get hurt if you stay away.
Loud voices suddenly invaded the peaceful atmosphere as a group of about eight, rowdy young men appeared on the other side of the clearing. Linka gasped and dropped down behind the bench again, her heart pounding. They congregated uncomfortably close to her location, one man bending down to rudely swipe several objects from the memorial. Linka maintained a guarded watch, ready to run if the situation called for it.
Boshe moy, I think it is time to leave, she decided, hoping that her presence remained undetected until she seized the opportunity to flee. Unfortunately, the men were showing no sign of leaving. As they huddled together in front of the memorial, a man with a green beanie and dark goatee reached into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved a small packet of an unknown substance.
Linka watched in dawning horror, uncomfortably reminded of an incident in the first few months after she became a Planeteer.
Nyet, I really do not want to watch this... she pleaded silently, searching for the fastest and most accessible escape route. Linka shuddered and looked away as several men opened their wallets, intending to buy the product. Money rapidly exchanged hands and the deals were finalized, but the men remained where they were and continued talking in low voices.
Cursing in frustration, Linka lent to the side and attempted to relieve the pressure on her sore feet. As she tried to reposition her massive boot heels and distribute her body weight evenly, Linka overbalanced and fell backwards. As she crashed heavily into the dense foliage behind her, the men's attention was diverted to the stone bench.
"What the hell was that?" The man with the green beanie was openly suspicious, glaring accusingly at his customers, some of whom ran swiftly towards the source of the commotion.
Linka's reflexes immediately kicked into action. As the first man reigned down towards her hiding spot, she kicked out at the approaching figure. The man grunted in pain as her sharp heels made contact with his lower legs. He made a last-ditch effort to grab her, but she jumped to her feet and darted just out of his reach.
Adrenaline surged through her blood, fueling the much-needed burst of energy as she dodged two surprised men and narrowly escaped another. The exit was within reach and she dashed for it, her heart thumping heavily. Her brief sense of relief descended into abject horror as her left heel lodged itself into an upturned tree root.
"Nyet!" she screamed as she tumbled to the ground, landing painfully on her shoulder. Linka barely had time to roll onto her back before two pairs of hands reached down and pulled her forcibly to her feet. Kicking wildly, she was dragged back towards a shadowy corner of the garden, a hand clamped viciously over her mouth to prevent her from screaming.
When she was suitably restrained, some of the men observed her curiously for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.
"Who the hell is she?"
"Is she with narcotics?"
"Narcotics? You' gotta be kiddin' me! Does she look like a copper to you?"
"Lets just get out of here..."
The man with the green beanie approached her from the side, leering at her in a way which caused her body to shake uncontrollably. She regarded him out of the corner of her eye, whimpering softly against the hand covering her mouth.
He moved against her side, so uncomfortably close that she could feel his breath on her face.
"We got ourselves a little spy," he breathed, his goatee brushing against her soft cheek. "A real pretty little spy,"
"Hey, man... lets just get out of here," pleaded one of the men restraining her. Looking no older than a college student, he glanced around at the others nervously, before returning his troubled gaze to Linka's terrified face.
"Fine. Go then," the man with the beanie replied to the rest of them, without relinquishing his hold on Linka. "We'll be just fine, wont we sweetie?"
Reluctant to leave the frightened girl alone with him, the students remained motionless.
As the dealer's hand encircled her waist, Linka glimpsed a shadow rapidly approaching them, before dodging into the bushes, unseen by the dealer or his dutiful customers. Her pulse quickened as she unsuccessfully sought out the figure.
"I think you should leave her alone, man," objected one of her restrainers. As the dealer rounded angrily on the teenager, a bright red light appeared to Linka's left and blinked, before disappearing just as quickly. The Russian immediately stopped struggling as her eyes scanned the surroundings for the source, but she found nothing but darkness.
The dealer attempted to move in closer to Linka but was distracted by the overwhelming smell of singed fabric. He sniffed the air in confusion, before turning his head and searching for the cause. As he observed the remaining college students suspiciously, Linka caught a glimpse of the back of his beanie.
His hat is on fire!
Wheeler!
As the flames began to singe the dealer's head, he yelped in shock and threw the offending garment to the ground. One of the college students stamped out the flames, while the rest fled the scene, followed closely by the screaming dealer whose shirt and trousers were now smoking uncontrollably.
Linka was unceremoniously thrown to the ground as her attackers made their escape. Landing on her bottom, she yelped in surprise, but recovered her composure enough to call out his name.
"Wheeler?"
The man who had extinguished the fire now approached her. Linka jumped to her feet and recoiled from his advance, still searching for any sign of the American. The student paused and held out his hands, indicating that he didn't wish to hurt her.
"Are you okay? I'm really sorry about what..." His concern for her turned to fear as a shadow emerged to his left and walked menacingly towards the pair. The would-be rescuer's nerves failed him at this point as he turned and fled, leaving Linka standing in the middle of the memorial garden, disheveled and breathless with anticipation.
"Wheeler?" she called again, desperate to hear his voice. The figure stopped and regarded her for a moment, before cautiously covering the distance between them.
She gasped as his face came into view... same blue eyes, same mouth, same hair, but cut much shorter than she remembered.
He observed Linka for a moment, obviously comparing her own features in much the same way, his face mirroring the wonder and joy of seeing her again.
He opened his mouth to speak, but chose to reach out and touch her cheek instead, an elated expression on his handsome face.
"I told you I'd take you here one day, babe!" he spoke softly, pulling a twig from her hair and smiling at her.
The emotional weight she had carried since setting out from Hope Island evaporated, replaced by a longing she was unable to classify.
"Da. Can we go now, please?" she replied, before launching herself towards him and clinging to his neck in a panicky embrace. Laughing, Wheeler wrapped his own arms around her slender waist and drew her close, burying his face within her scented hair and sighing deeply. Linka closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the moment, oddly at peace.
"Spasiba, Yankee," she spoke with as much affection as she could muster, her words muffled against his neck Her breath tickled his skin in a pleasant manner as he lifted her of the ground for several moments.
"You're welcome, babe. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" He pulled away and held Linka's face between his hands, searching for any sign of injury.
She smiled at him and shook her head. "Nyet. You got here just in time."
Wheeler didn't seem altogether convinced by her reply, but accepted it for the moment. He grabbed her hand and led her to the stone bench she had previously occupied until the interruption. Taking a seat next to her, Wheeler seemed to be contemplating his next question. He remained silent, however and stared ahead at the 'IMAGINE' plaque, his brow furrowed in concentration and obvious bewilderment.
He turned to face her, "How can... how can you be here? I don't understand how..."
She gave him a very brief run-down of her journey so far, Wheeler's eyes widening at each new development and revelation.
"We... I mean, do you know... do you know what happened to you?"
She nodded. "Da, Gi and Ma-Ti filled me in... on the basics, anyway," she added, a dark look briefly transforming her features.
"What did they tell you?"
"That I died during the storm four years ago. I was already gone by the time you all found me."
Wheeler raised his eyebrows and looked away, but chose not to elaborate.
Linka's voice continued, oblivious to Wheeler's unusual reaction. "Gi said... that I wouldn't have felt any pain. I was buried on the island, and that is about all that I know." she replied in a flat voice, "They haven't exactly given me any...spec... specifiy...um,".
"Specific?" Wheeler corrected, his forehead now lowered and resting in his left hand.
She nodded again, "Da, I have no specific information about anything, really," she complained, "they have spent the past few days trying to baby me. I believe that I have a right to know where my family is."
Wheeler turned and observed her wistful profile, her emerald eyes cast downwards and currently examining her hands, which lay neatly folded within her lap. This habit was so familiar to him, so endearing. It was one of the memories he had clung to since her untimely death, which had devastated them all beyond belief.
"Is that all you want to know?" he questioned gently, his attention partly diverted by a litter of skinny stray cats that had stalked across the grounds in front of them, eying the pair greedily.
"I also wish to know where you have been all these years!" she exclaimed, elbowing him sharply in the ribs and making him jump in surprise. "I can't believe you never met up with them afterwards! You are so stubborn, Yankee!"
"Ow," he muttered, rubbing the afflicted area. "Yeah, well you're pretty frisky for a dead Russian," he replied smartly, earning a slap which he easily dodged this time.
"I am warning you, Yankee..." she grinned, delighted to see flashes of his old personality shining through the serious demeanor.
"All right... quit hassling me! Let's just find the others before those cats eat us alive," he suggested, standing and offering her his outstretched hand. She remained seated however, peering up at him with a combination of timidity and curiosity. Truth be told, Linka wasn't quite ready to share him with the rest of the group just yet.
"Can we go somewhere else?" she asked in a voice that was barely perceptible. Wheeler processed the totally out-of character request, before shrugging his shoulders in agreement.
"Yeah, I suppose... I think that Mom lives on the upper east side now, I guess we could go there."
"You do not live here, yourself?" she surmised with a confused frown, having made the incorrect assumption that New York would always remain his home. "Where do you live?"
"Ah, interstate," he replied a little too quickly, deflecting her next question by forcibly grabbing her arms and pulling the Russian onto her unsteady feet. "C'mon, lets get out of here. It's way past my bed-time."
Giggling, Linka happily allowed the American to take her hand and lead her safely out of the park. Arriving at the exit at last, Wheeler turned left and led his precious charge towards a set of subway station steps across the street, now deserted and abnormally quiet.
"What the hell were you thinking, going into Central Park alone, anyway?" Wheeler demanded. His voice had now acquired an angry tone as he rounded on her.
Linka frowned, switching her attention from the subway train window to Wheeler's stern expression. "I needed to get away. Kwame was not as welcoming as I would have expected," she answered honestly.
"Yeah, but Central Park? How many times have I... did I tell you... damn it, Linka! Central Park!" Wheeler exclaimed, his use of past and present tense becoming inexplicably intertwined. "Those jerks would have done far worse to you if I'd have turned up a few minutes later"
Linka retaliated, feeling the need to defend her decision. "I wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time, Wheeler! I just wanted to be alone... anyway, by that point, I though that maybe I'd be better off if..."
"Oh, that's just great. Why the hell would I wanna' watch you die twice, Linka!" he shot back, his overwhelmed emotional state finally getting the better of him. He turned away from her, folding his arms across his broad chest and staring at the back of the passenger's head in the next seat.
Linka stared back at him in utter disbelief, the shock of his revelation causing her heart to palpitate. She reached out and touched his face, lurching slightly as the train pulled into a station platform.
"What did you say?" she whispered, needing clarification. She received no response from the pensive American. "Gi told me... that I died instantly." Her mind worked frantically as pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. "Wait, Wheeler... you... you found me, didn't you," she suddenly realized, her intuition kicking into overdrive at this point. "I was alive when you found me?" she guessed, dumbfounded at the situation her friend had found himself in.
Wheeler placed his hands behind his head and nodded, glancing briefly at Linka's pale face before resuming his search for gray hairs on the man in front, anything to rid himself of the sad memories now resurfacing.
"Boshe moy," she breathed, "and the others didn't know this?"
"No. No sense in distressing them any further, I thought."
"I am beginning to understand why you didn't make contact with them until now. What exactly happened to me, Wheeler?" she inquired, curious about the circumstances and aware that the American would never refuse to divulge this important information. Her question ironically coincided with their approaching subway station, announced over the loudspeaker.
"Let's get to my Mom's place first, okay? You can interrogate me later." Nodding in agreement, she followed Wheeler into the aisle and out of the cluttered carriage. "Damn, it's freezing out here," he noticed, placing a comforting arm around Linka's small shoulders. She lent into him, strangely content to share his warmth and affectionate embrace.
Together, they made their way out of the station and onto 111th street, their brisk pace matched only by the gusty breeze which, unbeknown to the distracted pair, had been gathering in intensity for the past hour.
A storm was brewing. Again.
Yay! Hope unlucky chapter thirteen didn't disappoint you. Special thanks to Miss Mango, My Inner Child and the aptly named 'Nameless' for reviewing the last chapter. Next update may be as soon as tomorrow, if I can get myself organized, that is.
Keep reading and reviewing, guys! You know I love to read them!
Love Sarah